


How Jason Todd Stole Christmas

by havisham



Category: DCU
Genre: Christmas, Ficlet, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Ignore</i> the misleading title. Jason Todd doesn't have any fucking thing to do with Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Jason Todd Stole Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains multiple instances of gleeful profanity. Readers are advised to read with caution.

Christmas wasn’t exactly the brightest season in Gotham. Well, not for one Jason Peter Todd anyway. Before she got really sick, his mother, Catherine, would make an effort to spruce up their tiny apartment with lights and decorations, but once Jason got old enough (and in Gotham, old enough meant still very young) he could see through all the bullshit. 

Santa didn’t _come_ to poor kids’ houses, the mean fucker. 

\+ 

Wayne Manor transformed overnight, from a drably elegant home to a glittery wonderland of tinsel and lights. It was decorated exactly as it had been, the last time Thomas and Martha Wayne had celebrated Christmas and Chanukah with their young son. Their giant portrait, in the drawing room, was lit up like a holy shrine. Frankly, it was a little fucking creepy, but that was Wayne Manor for you. It was always a little fucking creepy. 

(At least the Christmas tree didn’t have bat-shaped ornaments on it.)

Jason had never had this many presents before, and of course, it was his duty as a budding detective to report back to Bruce exactly what he had received, before Christmas morning, and without removing the wrapping paper or shaking the gifts. 

(He was wrong about one of them; a hideous pajama set in an oversized box. It was light blue and decorated with grinning Supermen in santa hats, a present from Dick.) 

Yes, Dick was here too, the smarmy bastard. He was always smiling (that was creepy too), and looking gorgeous even in the ugliest of sweaters. And he was trying to catch Jason in a covert hug or two. It was awful, but Jason treated this like the training exercise. (That it no doubt was.)   
He wasn’t yet able to break Dick’s hold, but he had almost kneed him in the groin, twice. 

“C’mon, Jason! Stop _squirming_ ,” said Dick, laughing a little, and not letting go. Jason growled, an weak imitation of Bruce’s, flailed harder. 

Alfred observed their struggles with a suspiciously bright eye. 

Bruce, of course, was nowhere to be seen. He was probably off lighting a candle for his dead parents. Jason thought that Bruce, who was relentlessly irreligious in most things, probably engaged in some kind of immediate ancestor worship. 

(Hey, don’t look so surprised. The boy liked to read.) 

\+ 

Jason didn’t celebrate anything for years after he came back. Though by rights, he figured, _he_ ought to be celebrated. After all, hadn’t he come back from the dead? Didn’t he now perform miracles, just like the other guy? He laughed, but the dead sex traffickers didn’t appreciate the joke. 

What a bunch of stiffs, haha.

\+ 

“Using stolen drug money to buy Christmas presents, Todd? That’s pretty f- messed up, even for you,” said Red Robin, who was perched on the fire-escape above Jason’s head. 

Jason, maskless and in stiff black winter coat, looked up and grinned sharply. “ _Language_ , birdboy! You don’t want the good citizens of Gotham thinking that their shining heroes have fucking potty mouths, do you? What would ol’ Bats say?” 

Tim said nothing, as a crowd of children cautiously approached them. Pretty soon, Jason was surrounded, and Tim swung in to give him a hand. When it was over, Tim looked cautiously over at Jason, who was patting his breast pocket, looking for a pack of cigarettes. 

(Or so Tim hoped.) 

“You could come home, you know,” Tim said, after what seemed like a long silence. _For Christmas, and after._ The offer hung in the air, unasked but still present. 

Jason frowned, and then shook his head briskly. “Nope, I don’t have one of those.” Then he took his red domino mask from his pocket and put it on. Now satisfied, he pushed roughly past Tim, who quickly settled into a ready fighting stance. 

“Merry Christmas, dickweed,” said Jason, and disappeared into the dark.


End file.
